


I Am Morbidly Depressed

by Monsieur_Grenouille



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: Awkwardness, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Trans Mikey Way
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-03
Updated: 2020-05-03
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:33:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,874
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23965441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Monsieur_Grenouille/pseuds/Monsieur_Grenouille
Summary: Think about it: have you ever seen a picture of Mikey Way shirtless? There’s a reason why you haven’t.The waycest is very very very subtle and I personally don’t view this as a waycest fic, but I don’t want to be wrong either. The waycest tag on this is like those “DO NOT EAT” labels on the silicon things. They don’t want to be sued, but they don’t think people would eat them anyway.
Relationships: Gerard Way & Mikey Way, Gerard Way/Mikey Way
Comments: 8
Kudos: 13





	I Am Morbidly Depressed

**Author's Note:**

> TRIGGER WARNING FOR C-TTING

“Michelle, what are you doing?” Gerard walks into our shared bedroom, catching me wearing his basketball shorts and tee shirt. I have my hair tucked into my hat, and I had removed all the makeup mom made me put on. 

“I-It’s not what it looks like! I’m not transgender. Why’d you ask if I was transgender?” I look like a deer in headlights. Gerard laughs softly and walks closer. He takes off my hat, setting it on the bed. 

“I didn’t ask anything besides what you were doing. Are you trans, though?” He replied softly. 

I feel tears come to my eyes. “C-Close the door and keep your voice down,” I whisper. Gerard nods and closes the door. I sit on my bed. “Y-Yeah, I’m trans,” I admit, “and my friends think I’m a real guy, so I was getting ready to meet up with them at Scooters.” 

Gerard smiled and sat down next to me. He pulls me close to his chest. “Do you normally wear my clothes when you meet up with them?” 

“Yeah. I’m sorry for not asking you first.” 

Gerard shrugs his shoulders. “You wear my least favorite stuff. My plain shirts, my athletic shorts, and my Axe body spray. You can keep that outfit. But, uh, can I ask you a question? What do your friends _call_ you?” 

I hesitate, unsure if Gerard would actually want to know or not. “They call me by my last name, since I don’t know what I want my name to be yet. M-My teachers call me Way, too.” I hide behind my hair. Gerard stays quiet after that. He takes my arm and turns it upward. In a panic, I try to pull my arm back, but he’s already seen the marks on my skin. Next thing I know, his voice is cracking with tears.

“Why didn’t you tell me you cut?” he whispered. 

I bow my head, ashamed and angry at myself. “I should’ve told you, I know. I’m such an idiot.” 

Gerard cuts in, “No one talks about my brother that way. I never told anyone about my own pain, either. Frank had to roll up my sleeves for me.” 

“But why did you cut?” 

“Because I thought it was wrong to be gay. I had a crush on a boy, and I hated myself for it. Do you cut because you’re trans?” He puts his hand on my waist. 

I nod my head slowly. “I should just be normal.” I press my face to Gerard’s shoulder. Gerard strokes my hair and whispers things in my ear. I’m too stressed to understand what he’s saying, but I just love the feel of his voice grazing my ear. He kisses me on the top of the head and shushes me calmly as he reaches into a drawer and pulls out a pair of scissors. 

“How short do you want your hair?” he asks, taking bits between his fingers as a measurement system. “I’m not gonna cut it right here, but I’d like to know. Tucking hair into a hat is useless when you can just chop it off and get on with it. Yes, from experience, because mom wanted a girl when she was pregnant with me so she tried to make me a girl. She wanted me to be transgender at the age of two.” 

I crack a smile. “Is that why you’re gay?” 

Gerard scoffed. “I have my theories. There’s also the whole Frank incident, which I guess was more influential.” He ruffles my hair, then stands up and pulls me to the bathroom. He and I are staring at our reflections in the mirror, but I have a scowl on my face. Gerard pats my back. “C’mon, dude, be proud of who you are.” 

I smile weakly, but even I know it’s fake. Gerard sighs and drops the topic. He picks up a brush and spray-conditioner So he can get my hair ready for chopping. I don’t have many tangles to begin with, but he still finds a way to make it like silk. “How short?” he asks, “A little past your ears like mine, or short like Captain America’s?” 

I hesitate. I’m horrible with making decisions. “Wh-What would look cool?” 

Gerard shrugs. “That’s what we’re trying to find out, little si– brother. Brother. You’re my brother.” He corrects himself harshly, and I see his eyes dart to the shaving razor on the counter. I turn my head to look at him. 

“Gerard, no. It’s not a big deal. I told you fifteen minutes ago.” 

“Twenty.” 

“Still! Look at me. L-Look at me, Gerard. I’m not mad at you. I’m happy that you’re helping me with this. It means more than anything ever could. Don’t hurt yourself for that. Please,” I stand on my toes to kiss the space between his eyes. He loses the hard expression, kisses me back. We have an understanding about comfort, and it usually involves a little bit of cheek/forehead kissing here and there. Nothing on the lips, of course. “I think I want my hair to be shorter than yours,” I whisper. Gerard nods and spins me back around to the mirror. 

“Show me with your hand where you want it cut,” he says. I take my hand and put it high on my neck, landing on the spot where most boys at my school have it. Gerard makes a satisfied hum and puts his hand next to mine. “So this is where the bottom part would be?” I nod. Gerard asks, “and do you want me to go over the ear? We could also shave the sides or something like that.” 

I shake my head. “No need to shave the sides. I would like it to be cut over the ears, though. Should I take off my glasses?” 

“No. I want you to see every moment of this part.” Gerard chuckles and takes the first swipe with his scissors. My hair falls into the strategically placed trash bin, the dead skin cells finally deader. “That’s nice,” Gerard whispers to himself, “A little choppy, but I’m not a professional.” 

I stare at myself in the mirror. It’s choppy, like Gee said, but I love it so far. “Keep going,” I urge, “Oh my god I’ve never been happier.” 

Gerard smiles lightly. “I owe it to you, kiddo. I’m gonna keep going, now. Hold still.” He takes another bit off, then another, then another. He switches around the place where my hair parts, so that it fits with the short hair. “Oh, that’s sexy,” Gerard mutters as he fixes it with some manly-smell gel so that it stays. It works, and I feel a new level of happy when he kisses the top of my head and hugs my back to his chest. 

My sandy-blonde hair was swept down in edgy strands, slicked back a little by the gel. Before the gel, it was wild and — I have to admit — a hot look for me. “Fuck...” I whisper, “You did such a good job on this.” I reach up to touch it. Gerard swats my hand away. 

“No touchy,” he teases, “Wait for it to dry. In the meantime, let’s pick your name.” 

I blush with excitement. “I’m thinking something similar to my birth name, just so it sounds like I’m not changing it because it sounds cooler.” 

“Just for that reason? Hon, you should pick a name you want.” Gerard walks me to his side of the bedroom and sits on his bed. I sit next to him, involuntarily crossing my legs. Gerard swats my knee. “Don’t sit like that; it’s ladylike.” 

I chuckle at how “ladylike” had a negative connotation with that sentence. I uncross my legs and look at my brother as if to say, _Is this okay_? Gerard pats my back affectionately. “Good boy,” he murmurs. I blush, since I always get turned on by praise and Gerard didn’t know that. He notices, though, and starts blushing. “I didn’t mean to–“

“I-I know. Just don’t mention it. About the name thing... what’s a manly word for Michelle?” I clear my throat and practice deepening my voice. 

Gerard thinks for a second. “Mitchell, and you could go by Mitch?” He shrugs. 

I pray he’s joking. “Spare me,” I laugh, rolling my eyes. Gerard smile start softly. 

“I guess it’s a no for Mitch. You know, I was going to call you Mitch the Bitch when you’re on your period. Is it a no now?” 

“It’s an even bigger no. What if I had the name Michael? There are a few different nicknames for Michael. Mike, Mick, Mickey, Mikey, you know the rest.”

Gerard’s ears perked up. “I like Mikey. I mean, this has nothing to do with me, but I’m just tossing it out there.”

I smile, “I like it too. Mikey Way sounds cool.”

Gerard cocks hi sorry head to the side. “Are you sure we’re _just_ making you into a guy? It seems to me like we’re making you sexier, with a side of manliness.” 

I barely hear him over my happiness. My new name keeps circulating through my head. Mikey Way. Mikey Way. Mikey Way. Mikey Way. Mikey Way. “Is there a way to make my tits smaller? I’ve been saving money for a few years and whatever there is, I’m pretty sure I can afford it.” 

Gerard grabs his laptop and opens it to google. “What keywords to use?” he mumbles. I lean over his shoulder. 

“Put FTM, chest, and smaller,” I suggest. Gerard types the words as soon as I say them. We find a website where you can buy a chest binder, and Gerard hands me a tape measure from his art drawer. I go into the bathroom to get my measurements, and Gerard’s almost surprised when I tell him the numbers. 

“How do you cover it?” he marvels. 

I blush furiously and cross my arms over my chest. “I-I wear big clothes, and I slouch, and I use sports bras and ace bandages. The bandages hurt, though. They leave marks. Let’s, uh, let’s find a color. Black would be visible in a white shirt, but white has an aspect of see-through. I don’t want to attract any attention with a colorful binder...” 

Gerard does some clicking. He eventually lands on a color similar to my skin. “It would blend in, and if it shows through a shirt, you won’t care because you’d be trying to seduce someone.” He tosses me a lopsided smile. I roll my eyes and laugh at him. 

“I think I’ll buy the tan one, then. How much do I owe you?” I stand up and take my money jar from my side of the room. Gerard shakes his head. 

“This is on me, Mikey. Just take a break from it every eight hours, it says here. So, put it on when you’re getting ready for school, then take it off after homework.” He tugs me into his lap and kisses my cheek. “The order should get here by Wednesday. And since we got sidetracked while making you awesome, let me drive you to Scooters. Your friends should be some of the first people to see you like this.” 

**Author's Note:**

> I have proof for my trans!Mikey headcanon. There are no available pics of him shirtless, only tank tops. As a trans guy, I understand the struggle of wearing tank tops because it’s the closest I can get to shirtless. He also doesn’t talk much, which could come from voice dysphoria. He also has really fine facial features, and wide eyes with long eyelashes. If you notice, his facial hair is little to none, and it grows in the signature “Testosterone shot” style. I’m not saying he’s trans, but it’s not completely ruled out yet.


End file.
